


do not disturb

by orphan_account



Series: when you kill the lights [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Falling In Love, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mild Angst, Pining, yeah this is short sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 07:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13654281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: what happens behind closed doors is a whole different universe, and no one involved knows what do do with that.





	do not disturb

**Author's Note:**

> I usually never write in first or second person and haven't done rpf in years but thought I'd try something different!!! the "you" this is addressed to is Ryan btw

You're always away from home when it happens. 

You're unsure why; maybe it's the way the light bulbs glow different shades of honey, or the way there's no light pollution and he's showing you constellations. He knows about those better than you, and he teases you for it when you sit outside, clutching a beer bottle and admitting you don't know shit about stars.  _You'd think someone who's so into the idea of life in space would know this stuff_ , he tells you with a crooked smile.

Or maybe it's the way he gets all soft around the edges when you wake up - in the same bed but not _together_ -  and he paces around an unfamiliar hotel room to get a change of clothes and picks up your glasses on the desk, drops them off on your bedside table and says  _better keep these close_. 

_____________________________

You realise, somewhere between the first time your lips taste his and your legs wrapped around his waist, that this isn't good enough, but you refuse to stop. You refuse to trade in showers where you're pressed against the tile and whimpering his name for showers on your own. It hasn't fallen apart yet, and it has no obvious reason to, but you still kiss him like you're on borrowed time. 

It's escapism, you and him both know it. Some shitty motel in Northern California shouldn't feel like a different universe, but it does. It's one where you don't put up a pillow wall between the both of you anymore - one where you're both slick with sweat an hour after the cameras stop rolling, and one where you laugh together over weird birthmarks. 

_____________________________

You sit outside one night, west of nowhere the night before a shooting day, and he joins you without saying a word, just folding limbs in the night. The faint light coming from the hotel room washes over your faces and he gives you a raised eyebrow that means,  _is everything alright_ , and that's when you lose it.  _I think I'm in love with you_ , you croak out. 

He gulps then, opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You sit in silence for what seems like a lifetime - and maybe it is. It's hard for you to grasp that life is still going on outside of this exact moment, that the sun has already risen on the other side of the world when yours seems to have set forever. 

He kisses you after a century of avoiding each other's gaze, and it's still wordless but every time his lips crash over yours you swear you can almost hear him say  _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_. You hear it again when he lays you down on the bed and fucks you slow and gentle, and neither you or him will call it making love out loud but that's what it is. When you say you're close he looks into your eyes and you think if he doesn't love me, then I don't know what this means before you're reduced to an incoherent puddle of pleasure.

The day that follows is a blur, but when you watch the footage back you can tell all your nerve endings were exposed, raw, while his were the same as usual. This makes you hate him a little bit, even though you know you shouldn't; people feel things differently and they can't help it, you know this, but _it's so fucking unfair_. 

_____________________________

Christmas rolls around, and with it, a holiday party you attend as your first real break from work in weeks. You're five drinks in when you push him onto your mattress, and for the first time you sleep together in your apartment instead of some shitty hotel, and it feels almost sacred despite the unholy things you do to each other that night. You don't notice everything has changed until you wake up and he's not there, and you'd convince yourself the night before was some weird dream if it wasn't for the tissues that are clearly in your bedroom bin. 

_____________________________

It's three weeks before you speak to him again, and when your aunt asks if there's somebody special in your life at Christmas dinner, you find yourself answering it's kind of complicated. When you come home late at night with gifts and leftovers in Tupperware containers on January fourth, it's a shock to your system to see his name on your phone screen for the first time in so long. 

 _Heard you were back in town_ , he texts.  _Can we talk?_ You write back  _yes_ , _can we please talk_ , and he's at your door twenty minutes later.  

_____________________________

 _I love you_  is the first thing he says when you invite him in, and under the light polluted night sky, you believe him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this made sense and I'd love to know your thoughts!


End file.
